Tag Archives: Patrick Twins

#86 – Where the heart is

I twist around in the passenger seat of our rented car, which Oliver is driving at 25mph past some M1 roadworks, and look at the children. All three are fast asleep, their mouths slightly open. Jack is snoring. If only … Continue reading

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#75 – Glass houses

We’re house hunting again. I meant to have a serious talk with Oliver about Sandra’s interior design efforts in our home in Milton Keynes, but before I could find the right moment (you have to pick the right moment to … Continue reading

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#73 – Stuck in my craw (fish)

Beth is in possession of her wooden box again. I, however, am in possession of a new enemy. Ah well. I suppose it’s about time. Last week I met Crystal’s mom, Jodee Addison. In the nursery school parking lot, we … Continue reading

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#72 – Puppy Love

I really don’t want to make this phone call. But I dial the number anyway. The phone picks up at the other end, a child answers, and I’m about to launch into a high-pitched, nervous Hello-is-your-mommy-there routine when I realise it’s not a … Continue reading

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#71 – Bonnie and Clyde go to preschool

Jack and I sit at the kitchen table, surrounded by the Disney Valentine cards and heart-decorated pencils I bought in January. It’s serious business, writing out sixteen Valentine cards when you’ve only just learned your alphabet — Jack, not me … Continue reading

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#68 – Puppy fat

The paediatrician pinches a wad of baby flesh and plunges her syringe into the right thigh of an unsuspecting George. A couple of seconds of silence while George’s bottom lip sticks out and he fixes me with a reproachful stare. … Continue reading

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#61 – A voice in the dark

Something has woken me. A voice in the night. I lie in bed and stare around the semi-darkness, wondering if an old, lost spirit lingers in the whitewashed walls of this Georgian cottage. I have no idea what time it … Continue reading

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#60 – Cotswold espionage

You can take the girl out of England, but you’ll never take England out of the girl. It’s home, and always will be. At least, that’s what I thought until Oliver and I land at a major British airport at … Continue reading

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#58 – Careless whispers

OK. Let’s do this. My finger hovers over the doorbell for a couple of seconds before I push the button. Inside, a torrent of barks from Anita’s dog, Champion, reminds me of the morning at this house, nearly a year … Continue reading

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#56 – Falling up

I’m trapped in a dream and am falling, falling, falling, towards a pit of boiling lava. It serves me right, I tell myself in my dream, for believing pink satin pointe shoes would be appropriate attire in which to climb … Continue reading

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